


Hope is a Thing With Feathers

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle is Hope, Soulmark AU, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year you don't find your soulmate, your Soulmark covers more of your body. Mr. Gold's Soulmark, a trellis of roses, has become so cumbersome, that he has been wearing nothing but suits for the past five years just to keep the stares at bay. He refuses even to roll up his sleeves in public, that is until a particularly hot August comes around, along with a new librarian who has a string of gold trailing over her body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt by ashadeofpemberly. I've changed it up just a bit.

Storybrooke was just as nauseating as the name implied and Mr. Gold regretted living in it every January seventeenth, which happened to be the anniversary of the day he’d moved to the insipid little town seven years ago.

At first it seemed quaint and quiet and a place where he could silently exist in relative solitude, but he soon realized that the quaint and quiet town was filled to the brim with story book endings, the likes of which made him sick.

He didn’t begrudge people their love, or the fact that they were so obviously deliriously happy. What he hated was that his chance of finding the same love and happiness was denied to him despite a twenty-five year-old promise that his Soulmark was out there waiting for him. He waited. He planned. He hoped. He despaired. She never appeared and the bitterness of watching another mark bloom on his skin with each passing year ate at him until he finally gave up, moving away from his squalid Glasgow flat that he hated across the ocean to the small town he currently loathed.

The first rose bloomed when he was seventeen at the cusp of his first year at university. It had startled him when he hopped out of the shower stall and saw it through the foggy mirror over the rust-stained sink. It was on his chest right over his heart and he stared down at the brilliant colors splashed on his thin chest in fascination. It was no bigger than his fist, a red rose in bloom so realistic that it might be plucked from his skin and put in a vase — if he owned one.

He stared at it so long that he missed his morning class.

It had taken seventeen years for the mark to appear. Seventeen years of being unmatched and unwanted. Most of his schoolmates had had their marks since infancy, some of them had even found their soulmates already (a feat which always confused Gold because he always felt so awkward around people that the apparent ease in which couples… well, coupled, mystified him completely). Seventeen years was young by anyone’s standards even if he did feel positively ancient compared to some of the arseholes he associated with, but it had never occurred to anyone that the reason why he’d never had a mark before was simply because she hadn’t been born yet.

That possibility, that there was someone for him after all was enchanting at first. He’d thought he was destined to be one of the Unloveable and here he was, marked after all this time. It wasn’t until three days later when he saw the harried woman with the pram walk by that it hit him. His soul mate was three days old. She was a baby and he was seventeen years her senior.

What kind of soulmate was that? Seventeen years! Why, he was old enough to be her father, technically speaking. What would he say to someone seventeen years younger to him? How on earth were they going to get on if he was constantly tying her shoes or helping with her homework.

And then he realized, God! Her Mark must have appeared as soon as she was born. He was curious about what it looked like, his Mark upon her, but the thought made him ill. Whatever it looked like, she was a baby and no matter how old she would be when they finally met, she would always be seventeen years younger than him. He didn’t know of any Soulmarks with an age gap that wide, it was largely acknowledged that everyone who received a Soulmark was matched with someone close to the same age, a peer you could respect and who would respect you. Seventeen years was too big, too far to have anything in common with another person. He would feel like her uncle more than a lover. When would they even meet?

He discovered a morbid interest in babies whenever he saw them, glancing in their prams, wondering it that might be the one as their nannies hurried by. The thing was, he didn’t know what her Mark looked like. They said he would recognize it instantly when he saw it, but what would happen if he did and she was still in diapers? Go up to her parents and introduce himself? Offer to babysit?

Fuck no!

After a month of ignoring his rose and the burning resentment of being paired off with an infant, it occurred to him, during a sleepless night, that now that he knew he had a soulmate after all, and that she would be so much younger than he was, perhaps it would be wise for him to spend his time building a future for them. He was just starting out now, but by the time this mysterious person came into his life, he could be well established and ready to provide for her. He could turn this into a good thing if only he tried.

He studied hard, worked hard, and slept little, saving everything he had until another seventeen years passed and his small nest egg had multiplied into a small fortune that sat, untouched, in wait for a bride that never came. He was thirty-four years old and the Marks crawled upon his skin with each passing year, covering him from collarbone to his knees, shoulders to his wrists and all down his back with the damned roses. They twined with each other, velvety red on a backdrop of soft green leaves and in every stage possible; tightly rolled up, just beginning to open, and spread wide in full bloom. They were a beautiful reminder of what was absent from his life and he began to hate them as they multiplied. He felt like a circus freak. After seventeen years, it got to the point where he had to cover himself from neck to toe even during the hottest time of the year because people _stared_ if you had a Mark that large. Stared and wondered and asked prying questions and felt pity for the poor bastard who had to wait.

The resentment he’d felt in the beginning had built up again. The solitude and loneliness eating at him until he shunned company and avoided his friends. It was endurable to be Unloveable when he knew that was his fate. There were enough people like him to seek out and form a little community together and he didn’t begrudge his status because he knew he could still find some sort of happiness. The Soulmarked didn’t have that option. Either you found your mate or you suffered alone.

His loneliness had been brought to bear after he’d been clipped by a car on a rainy Tuesday. He’d been lucky, but his ankle had been shattered and he was laid up in the hospital for days without a visitor. He’d long since shut out his old friends and there was no one in his life to take their place. A Soulmark would have been there for him instantly, but whoever she was, she was still absent in his life and he found himself alone all through the operations, the excruciating physical therapy, the learning how to cope as he shambled around on crutches and trying to do something as simple as pouring milk in his tea without toppling over was all done by himself. It took months before he was able to stand without an aid and even then he required a cane if he wanted to get anywhere fast. He struggled and wept and hated until he got through it - alone, unloved, and unwanted.

He was _Marked_ and no one would touch him — not even for money. Sex with a Marked man was as taboo as dating your mother or kissing a nun. It was disgusting. And anyone who wanted to be touched by anyone other than their Soulmark was abhorred. He was still Unloveable in all but name and he found it unbearable.

He looked for her after a while. In theaters and parks and libraries and government offices — wherever he happened to be, he was on the lookout for a young woman with a large, sprawling Mark on her. He didn’t know what it looked like, but he would know it when he saw it. He had become desperate and more than one woman had taken umbrage at his unceasing staring and he found himself stammering out an excuse, but after a short time, he learned that there was no explaining it. He’d been yelled at, smacked, and threatened by boyfriends or warned off by the police. He grew his hair long enough to cover his eyes and disguise the fact that he was still searching every face in the crowd, but she was just not there.

The idea that she’d seen him and immediately rejected him on sight sat in the back of his brain, eating away at him like a silent disease. Initially, he’d been dismayed to learn that his Soulmark was younger, perhaps she was just as turned off by a man who was so much older than she was. She had every reason to expect a much younger man, not this old and increasingly bitter man with shaggy hair and who walked with a cane and lived like a hermit. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, of course, but neither was this eternal wait. Maybe everything about his Mark worked against his happiness. Maybe it wasn’t his turn in this life.

When his thirty-fifth birthday rolled around and still no Soulmark in sight, he gave up. Either she didn’t live in this town or she spent as much time avoiding him as he did in searching for her. He sold his flat, packed up his meager belongings, and emigrated, settling in Storybrooke mostly for the novelty of it compared to his big city life he’d left, but mostly because he felt that he might be happy in a smaller town with fewer people to reject him.

His law degree wasn’t transferable, of course, but he learned that he enjoyed real estate more than arguing points of law and so he began to buy up the small town in bits and pieces. No longer saving for a future with his Soulmark, he put it to good use. Real estate values rose and dropped — sometimes drastically — but it was a good investment, especially if you owned most of the rental properties in three counties. His small fortune had turned into a larger one, too much for just one person he thought during the dark, bitter nights spent in front of the fire. He bought a tiny shop for amusement and a large pink house because he fancied it. Why not? He had no one but himself to please. He taught himself how to repair watches and determine the value of a chair just by looking at it and how to restore painting if it wasn’t too damaged.

He dressed impeccably, covering himself from his neck down to hide his Soulmark from prying, small town eyes and gossiping tongues. He looked ridiculous parading about in his three piece suits amid the flannel shirts and faded jeans of the townsfolk, but then, he had had always stood out with his Mark back home. Here in Storybrooke, his accent and his wealth guaranteed that he would never blend in so he embraced his difference for once.

The problem with small towns was that it was the people were inescapable.The same faces, day after day, their happiness radiating from every pore of their insipid faces until he wanted nothing more than to bet their smiles in with his cane, and their nosiness about his Soulmark, or the absence thereof, was just as draining as it had been back in Scotland.

Just when he was about to take a belt sander to his skin and rid himself of this roses once and for all, he’d found solace when the new librarian had moved to town and a tender friendship blossomed. Belle French happened to him like the Soulmark did, suddenly and without any expectation that it would happen. She just appeared one morning outside his tiny shop window and came in with a smile on her face and four-inch heels on her feet and a yellow dress primly buttoned up from neck to calf in between.

The feeling of rightness was almost instantaneous and he staggered when he turned around at the sound of the bell over his door to find her standing in his shop with a hesitant and hopeful look on her face. His first instinct was that he’d found her at last, his Soulmark, the one who he was destined to meet after so long, but there was no look of recognition from her, no acknowledgment that something extraordinary had happened to her and he quickly masked his surprise before it was noticed and remarked upon. He didn’t want to drive this person away whoever she was.

She was new to town, she said in an accent he wouldn’t soon forget, everyone in town had told her to see Mr. Gold for an apartment to let. Could he help her?

“Yes,” he breathed as he stared into her startlingly blue eyes, his gut twisting into knots at the sight of her. The urge to hold her and keep her was nearly overwhelming, but he stomped on it viciously. “I can help you.”

Her name was Belle and help her he did, finding that the apartment just above the library was free. It had large rooms, newly renovated, with access to a private rooftop terrace where the view of the bay was unparalleled. And, would you look at that, it was discounted for government employees. Deeply. No thanks necessary, he was happy to help another newcomer.

He thought that their business transaction would be the end of their relationship, such as it was, but he found himself in her library at least once a day, sometimes twice and just as often she would visit him in his tiny shop where he’d made her a deal. She was beautiful and smart and had a wicked sense of humor that nicely mirrored his own and the more time he spent with her, the more he wished that a Mark would appear on her. His Mark. If he could make it happen by sheer force of will, it would bloom before his very eyes and the nagging fear that he would be alone forever would fade away.

He wanted it to be her. She was just about the right age for it, he figured, though he never asked, too afraid to let a sliver of hope back into his heart. Gold felt certain that if his Soulmark walked through his door at that very minute, it wouldn’t matter anymore because she wouldn’t be Belle. No one was like Belle and Belle wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before.

For the first time in a quarter of a century, he felt at peace around another human being. She was unMarked, one of the few in town who didn’t have a Soulmark and Gold went to great pains to make sure that her assumption that he was the same, stay that way. Dark suits, dark shirts, dressed from neck to toe now that the roses had spread to his calves, never rolling up his sleeves or loosening his tie. He suffered, but this time because of the friendship he’d gained rather than his loneliness.

He didn’t know what it was about Belle that drew him to her —or her to him if he was honest with himself, but from the very first moment he laid eyes on her and she smiled up at him, he was hers. Maybe her friendship was a consolation prize. They could never be any more than friends, she was unMarked and he was overly so, but he could cherish her quietly. Slowly, he began to relax, the tightness that had left his chest feeling as if it was encased in a vice loosened. He hadn’t even realized just how wound up he had been until the tenseness was gone and he worried, not for the first time, if his Soulmark had suffered, too. He hoped she was content, wherever she was, and that she had found someone to take the sting of loneliness away.

Summers were the worst. Hot and muggy and full of tourists who got lost looking for Stephen King’s house. He learned to close his shop during certain hours of the day, those that were too hot to do anything but wait for winter while he sat in front of a fan in the back room with a damp handkerchief over his face while he dozed and half-dreams of Belle French simmering in his mind.

He’d grown complainsant over the past five years. He felt normal again, or whatever passed as normal for him. Ever since Belle had come into his life and turned everything he knew on its head. Too comfortable, too careless and his heart stopped in his chest as he came out of the bathroom, his sleeves still rolled up from washing turpentine off his hands, to find Belle standing at the curtain that separated the back room from the storefront, her hands on her lips and her face white as chalk. He thought he’d locked the door. He hadn’t heard her come in.

Gold looked down at his exposed arms and cursed, hastily rolling them back down where they flapped over his hands like sleepy bats. “Belle, I can explain,” he said, but he could tell that that it was too late. She’d seen his Mark and knew what he was.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, gulping for air and Gold moved towards her, his arms outstretched to help her to a chair, but she stubbornly refused to sit down. “I’m so sorry, it’s not what it looks like, I promise you.”

She merely shook her head, her hands still covering her mouth muffling a tiny sob that broke through.

He hovered over her, surreptitiously redoing the cuffs the while so the sight of the roses didn’t offend her. His heart sank and he could feel the tears well up in his eyes as he realized that this was the end of it all. It was worse then the accident that broke his ankle. Worse than the recovery. Worse than when his father abandoned him on his Aunts’ doorstep. Nothing compared to watching Belle slowly regain her composure after learning of his betrayal. He longed to hold her close, to whisper that everything would be all right again, but he didn’t have that right. Not even as a friend anymore.

At last she was able to breath again, looking up at him with surprisingly bright and clear eyes. There was color in her cheeks and a glorious smile on her face that was begging to be kissed away. He felt himself lean forward, but stopped before he did something so brash and horrifying. She wasn’t screaming at him. Perhaps he could salvage their friendship, but only as long as he kept himself in check.  

“It’s funny,” she said, staring at his arms as though she could still see the roses. “I was planning on moving to Scotland. For years. I was working and saving because it called to me, but seven years ago the urge passed.” She turned her eyes up at him. “It was like the wind changed direction on me and I had to get to Maine as fast as I could.”

He frowned at her, puzzled at the sudden turn of conversation. Where were the accusations? Where was the disgust? “What... are you talking about?”

She held up a hand to her chest, clutching at her shirt. “I was hoping it would be you. I felt it when we met, but, at the time, it didn’t seem like you felt the same…”

“Belle?” he asked, his heart hammering in his chest at the implications.

Her eyes never left his as she undid the top three buttons of her blouse, each one slipping through with ease. She let the fabric fall away and Gold saw a glimpse of something underneath the prim collar — a feather peeking out just underneath the neckline and he reached out to touch it with a shaking hand. Her skin was warm and just as soft as he’d imagined it to be, sliding his fingers along her collarbone, pulling the shirt over as he exposed her mark.

The soft, downy afterfeathers spread out like cotton fluff while the barb curved delicately against her skin. They were layered over one another and a variegated gold and shimmered iridescently as she tilted her chin to the side, elongating her neck in a tempting invitation. His breath caught in his throat as he imagined what she must look like naked and covered in golden feathers. The effect would be stunning in the sunlight. He hoped he would find out.

“Oh, Belle,” he whispered as a jolt of euphoria shot through him. He sucked in a shaky breath and let it out in a big, throaty whoosh. This was what he’d been waiting for. ‘You'll know it when you feel it,’ they told him. A spark. A click. A Belle. It was Belle. It had to be Belle. He wanted to laugh and shout and sing and pick her up and swing her around in his arms and never let her go. Everything.

“”A thing with feathers…” he murmured before he looked, joyfully, into her eyes. “ _Hope_.”

“I’ve always had it, ever since I was a baby,” she said, her voice soft and trembling —like a feather in a gentle breeze. “It just kept growing on me. I was beginning to think you didn’t exist.”

“You were in _Australia_ ,” he murmured as he looked at it in awe. “This whole time, you were on the other side of the world. No wonder I couldn’t find you.” He glanced at her, licking his lips before he backed away, now scrambling at his tie. Never had he felt so open with another person. He had always felt shame over his body. Too scrawny, too short, too Marked to be attractive to anyone, but Belle understood. Belle would never make him feel bad about himself even if he wasn’t her Soulmark, she would treat him kindly because that’s just how Belle was.

The tie made a quiet hissing sound as the silk slipped through the collar and he carelessly dropped it to the floor, his eyes only on Belle as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt for her. Her eyes were wide as he spread it open, a sudden dampness making them shimmer underneath the shop’s light.

“So many of them,” she whispered, touching one with the tip of a finger.

“You probably have the same amount of feathers,” he replied.

“All over,” she agreed, tracing a petal softly. “I look like a budgerigar sometimes. They change color a bit when I move. You?”

He blinked at her, words failing him for a second before he replied. “I’m my own, personal arboretum. I was beginning to worry that I’d need to wear a mask soon.”

“Did you notice it stop growing?” she said, looking up. She had never been as beautiful as she did then, with her face turned up towards him, with her hair curled around her face and her blue eyes wide and her pink lips parted in anticipation.

He nodded. “A couple of years ago.”

“More like five,” she said, correcting him. “I thought you’d died then. I tried to mourn you, but I was too happy. I didn't understand why, but couldn’t make myself feel anything else. I’ve never been so happy in my life. I decided then that I wasn't going to let a Mark decide my fate, that I didn't need it.” She looked at him in amazement. “Out of everybody it was you. You felt so right to me.”

He nodded his head, understanding perfectly what she meant. He wanted to say something profound, something philosophical that would make the years of loneliness fade away, but, truth be told, all he could think about was taking her in his arms and kissing her breathless.

So he did. And they lived happily ever after.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A (very) small follow up.

Gold’s fingers were shaking as he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. It was one thing to let Belle see his Mark for they were also a part of her. She understood the stigma — of course she would having dealt with it herself, but he hadn’t shown them to anyone other than his physician in… well, it had been a very long time. Even just having his forearms exposed made his heart beat a little faster.

He didn’t think he would ever get used to showing them in public, but he wouldn’t know unless he tried. And he would never have dared if he hadn’t found Belle. His Marks were bright and obvious and he stared at them, wondering if he was brave enough to do this.

The day was hot again, the temperatures pushing into the nineties and he had decided that he could close the shop for the afternoon. His cabin was set back in the woods with shade trees all around and a small pond in the back for swimming. It would be cool and private and just the two of them.

“They’re beautiful,” she told him, as he finished fixing the cuffs to his satisfaction. “I could look at them all day.”

They _were_ beautiful. He’d always thought so even when he resented them.

He glanced down at her, noting the how tight her eyes looked and knew it was just as difficult for her as it was for him. She had undone the top three buttons and left her cardigan off in concession of the extreme heat, leaving her arms bare from the elbows down. He brushed a thumb against her cheek, marveling at how soft it was and how she leaned into his touch as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Well,” he said with a cheeky smile. “If we leave now, you’ll get to do that.” He swelled with pride as she snickered at him, bumping her hips against hers before wrapping her arms around him in a spine-crushing hug before letting him go with a playful slap against his chest.

She took a deep breath and nodded her head. “Are you ready?” she asked, turning her face up at him. The fear had been wiped away, but Gold knew it was lingering in the back of her mind. They might never get over their phobia of showing the extent of their Marks to anyone other than themselves, but they could take this tiny step together.

“As I’ll ever be,” he told her, truthfully.

She slid her hand in his. It was warm and sort and it fit perfectly in his. Her Marks stood out against his, the golden feathers contrasting sharply against his red roses, sending his heart thrumming for another, better, reason. Finally, with an encouraging smile, they stepped out of shop, hand in hand, and bravely walked into the sunlight.

  


 


	3. Hold You in my Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years after the credits...
> 
> Written for Rumbelle is Hope 2018.

 

Gold stared down in awe at the warm bundle of squishy baby in his arms, a curl of dark hair peeking out from under the hand knitted cap that covered his head. The cap was to keep his head warm and he knew that it was important, but Gold missed the sight of his tiny ears already and debated whether or not to just take one more peek before getting up. Maybe he’d just sit and rock a while instead and marvel at the itty bitty perfection of his son’s nose. Gold had just got him to sleep and he’d been told -- quite sternly, too -- that he was supposed to put him down in the crib right away so he’d learn to sleep on his own, but there was no way Gold could do that. He wasn’t done holding his miracle yet. He needed to hold onto him just a few minutes longer. Surely a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. And anyway, you can’t spoil a baby. 

A  _ baby _ . Belle’s child. That she had. With him. On purpose. Seven years ago he never would have thought it possible, but that was when he’d all but lost hope of ever finding his Soulmark. Then Belle happened to him and life suddenly began. He’d never expected to have any child at all and now, here he was, holding his second son. 

“Papa! Papa!”

There was a sound like a herd of miniature buffaloes thudding down the hallway -- unusual for the coast of Maine -- followed by the distinct squeal of bare feet coming to an abrupt stop on a wooden floor. Gold smiled, not the slightest bit worried about the baby waking up. It just meant he’d get to hold him a bit longer without needing an excuse.

“Shhhh, Bae,” Gold said gently, glancing at his oldest. “Gideon’s sleeping.”

Bae skidded to a halt, his lips pressed together in a line and his cheeks blown out as if holding his breath was the only way to be silent. Bae had opinions on everything and they were marvelous. His eyes were alight with excitement though and Gold knew that whatever it was it absolutely could not wait.

He lifted a finger and crooked it, allowing Bae to come into the room. The boy tiptoed in, his eyebrows raised

“I met a girl today,” Bae said. “At school,” he clarified unnecessarily because he’d just spent all day at school and came straight home so where else would he meet this girl? But Gold didn’t say any of that. He nodded his head, waiting for Bae to continue.

“Her name’s Emma and she has a flower on her wrist.” Bae pointed to his own wrist to show where. “And there’s more up her arm. Five of them!”

A blossoming warmth mixed with a decent amount of panic began to spread through Gold’s belly at what Bae was trying to say to him. He was describing a Soulmark. His Soulmates’s Mark. He wanted to cry in relief. Cry and maybe scream into a pillow. The one fear he had about having children was that they might have to wait as long as their parents did to find their Mark and the oppressive loneliness that came with it and yet, here Bae was chattering away about it at the ripe old age of five and three quarters. It was as routine as losing a tooth. 

“Does she now?” he said warmly, his eyes crinkling at his son, who was the spitting image of his mother, all curly hair and bright smiles. He glanced down at Bae’s Mark, a small arrow that poked out from under his sleeve. “And should we have Emma and her parents over sometime?” If Emma was indeed Bae’s Soulmark, then they’d have to meet eventually. They were all connected now through their children. Gold was a bit stunned. His family had just grown by at least three -- more if Emma had any siblings. Another small miracle considering it had just been himself for decades. 

Bae shrugged, unconcerned now that his news was all told. He was looking down at his baby brother with a warm smile. 

A shadow blocked the light coming in from the hallway. Gold looked up to see Belle leaning in the doorway, her face beaming with pride and love. 

“Hey,” he said, his entire body relaxing with the sight of her. “How was pick up?”

What he meant was really, ‘how are you feeling after venturing out of the house for the first time since Gideon’s birth’, but Belle insisted that she take up her former routine as soon as possible and that meant picking Bae up after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Gold took Mondays and Wednesdays and on Friday, they both got him. Bae’s teacher once told them at the parent-teacher conference that they were model parents and Gold nearly had a fit laughing afterwards. From town monster to ideal husband just like that. 

“Bae told you the happy news I take it?” Belle said trying not to smile too much.

Gold nodded. “He did. It seems our family has grown even more.”

Bae looked up, confused. “Is Mama pregnant  _ again _ ?” he asked. “She just had a baby.” 

Belle laughed, shaking her head as she stepped into the room. “No, darling. Sometimes a person joins a family instead of being born into one.”

Bae looked up, wrinkling his nose in thought before adding, “August is adopted.”

“That’s one way to grow a family,” she said patiently. “Or you can marry into one.” she paused. “Or not marry if you don’t want to, but they’re still family.”

“I don’t get it,” Bae said, blankly.

“Well, you don’t have to get it right now.” She took Bae’s hands and swung them from side to side. “You’ll get it soon enough. Probably a bit too soon for your Papa,” she added with a playful smirk. 

“Lots of time to get used to it,”Gold lied. He was happy, very happy for his son, but the boy was only five. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Oh yeah, there’s the panic taking over. He could feel the sneaky little tendrils snaking their way around his nerves. There was no way he’d get out of the day without making a jerk of himself.  He would have to wait until Bae and Gideon were asleep before he gave into it.

“Papa, can I watch Paw Patrol now?” Bae whispered, with a smile that knew the household was out of whack with the new baby and he could get away with a lot.

“You can watch one episode, but then you have to pick out a book to read afterwards, okay?”

“‘Kay!” he whisper-yelled, as he hurried out of the room before his dad could change his mind.

Belle placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “You okay?”

“Mmmm.”

“I wasn’t expecting him to find his Soulmark so soon.”

“Mm hmm.”

“It all seems so anticlimactic doesn’t it?”

“Mmmm.”

“Not like us,” she said, leaning down over him to see Gideon’s face better. “

“Still, I’m glad he doesn’t have that awful wait. I talked to Emma’s mom at pick up. They just moved here. Her dad’s the new sheriff and Mary Margaret will be teaching at the school.”

“That’s nice.”

“I told them they could move into the house over on Granville. She seemed a bit surprised, but Emma was talking her ear off about Bae so...”

Gold nodded. It wouldn’t do to have Bae’s Soulmark homeless. Or, renting. Family was family.

“... They’ll be here for dinner at five to talk it out.”

Oh.

Gold sighed, knowing that this meant he’d have to hold his pending panic attack for a few hours longer. That’s fine. He could do anything as long as Belle was there to help him.

He looked up at her. “You okay?” Belle looked fantastic after having given birth the week before, but she looked tired.

She nodded. “Yeah, getting out did me a world of good, but I’m a bit wiped now. Could go for a nap.”

Gold got up without hesitation and carefully put Gideon into his crib. The loss of his warmth or the cool crisp sheet startled the baby and he woke up with an angry cry. Gold picked him right back up and cradled the baby close to his chest, making cooing noises until the baby settled back down, but now he was wide awake and hungry.   


“Sorry,” he whispered, conrite now that Belle’s nap was put on hold.

“That’s okay, I missed him. Even fifteen minutes was too long. Next time I’ll bring the wrap and wear him.”

Belle got settled in the rocking chair and held her arms out, her face the very image of expectant joy. Gold placed Gideon in her arms and stepped back, reluctantly. Leaving the room now meant half an hour with Paw Patrol. He didn’t know if he could handle it. He'd have to dig out his ear plugs.

It only took a moment for Belle to get Gideon feeding, his small face pressed against her breast with greedy swallowing noises coming from his mouth as if he was a wild beast instead of a baby boy. 

Belle pulled back the blanket that covered Gideon up to his chin and looked a the tiny Mark on his shoulder that appeared three days after his birth, a delicate fern leaf no bigger than half of Gold’s pinkie.

“Somewhere out there is his Soulmate. They were born four days ago.” Gold still marveled at it.

“Hopefully they’re close by,” Belle said. Her voice trembled alarmingly.

He looked at Belle, her blue eyes wet with tears. Happiness. Fear. Uncertainty. Hope. They all battled in her soulful eyes that he loved so much. 

“We’ll be here for him if they aren’t,” he told her, trying to calm her anxiety. “We won’t let him go through that alone.”

She sniffled and gave him a wobbly smile. “No.”

“And he’ll know we love him.”

“Absolutely.”

“And we’ll hunt the globe for his Soulmark if we have to. Take out want ads or billboards.”

That got her laughing and Gold stared in wonderment at the amazing woman who’d given him everything.

“I love you, Belle,” he said, his voice cracking. He knew that Belle was dealing with postpartum hormones, but he was pretty sure that he had no such excuse. He took a shuddering breath and reigned himself in as much as he could. 

Surprised at his sudden emotional distress, she looked up at him. “I love you, too. You know that right?” She took his hand and squeezed it.

He crouched down, pulling Gideon’s blanket back up so his shoulder wouldn’t get chilly, then he kissed his wife --  just a gentle press of his lips against the corner of her mouth that still made his toes curl. 

“I do,” he said, smiling through the sudden onslaught of tears that wanted to fall. He blinked them back and met her eyes with his. “I do, yeah, But what I mean is, it was all worth it. The wait -- every blasted second of it. You were worth the wait.”

She smiled at him, pressing her free hand up to his cheek to cup it gently. “You were, too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from a poem called Hold You in my Smile by Ernestine Northover.
> 
> (Edit: five points if you get the summary. :D)


End file.
